A Mother's Love
by coldqueen
Summary: AU.  Claire and Peter have an early morning scare. Paire, but not cesty.  As I said, it's AU.


A/N: This is for Goblinchild's prompt: "_"PAIRE where Claire is not Peter's niece. The first time Claire and Peter's kid exhibits her powers."_

* * *

**A Mother's Love**

I was never truly comfortable with the thought of having children. Part of that stemmed from my own young age. I always imagined I'd have plenty of time in the future to have them. I didn't count on the man I love being considerably older than I was. He didn't have the time to wait years, but was willing to if I insisted.

Peter was my entire reason for living, so it wasn't that much of a hardship to carry his child and to adjust my plans for the future.

Seven years later and I've never regretted it.

Between my daughter, Sandra, and my husband, Peter, every day is a new adventure, and my love for them both grows by leaps and bounds. He still has that crooked grin, only now it's mirrored in our daughter's. My hair, his eyes, his smile; the most perfect combination I ever saw. Lately, we've been thinking about maybe adding a boy to our menagerie, which currently includes three dogs, two cats, and two hamsters.

On days like this, however, thoughts like that are miles away.

It started as all our days start, with breakfast.

Usually, if I have enough time, I'll try for pancakes or waffles. Since Peter had spent half the night keeping Mommy Dearest awake and screaming, we'd all settled for cereal and toast.

I was wearing only my robe when I heard the rush of steps on the stairs. A smile lifted the corner of my lips in greeting even as I turned with a cup of black coffee to hand to my husband. I expected a returning smile, I was disappointed.

There was a grave look on his face and panic in his eyes. "Sandra's gone."

The mug slipped from my numb fingers and crashed on the floor, I didn't notice the scald of the liquid on my bare feet. It didn't matter since within seconds my body had healed itself.

"What? Where?" My mind couldn't wrap itself around the concept of my daughter missing and it flew off onto many thoughts of chance. Did she leave? Did someone take her? Sylar? The Company?

Before any of those ideas could really take form and cement themselves in my mind I heard the loud piercing scream from outside. I didn't realize we were out the door until we were.

Our house is out of the city and near the beach. Peter and I loved the beach and Sandra has taken to the water like a fish. Perhaps she'd taken to it too much since that was where the scream was coming from. We followed the sound even as it suddenly cut off; Peter leading the way and seeking her out with what I can only assume is his telepathy.

We came around the edge of the fence, the gate ominously open, and caught sight of short blonde curls atop a tear-streaked face. She wasn't crying anymore, though, instead she had that damn crooked grin.

Normally, I'd be relieved at this point, but I recognized the odd look of her arm, her obviously severely broken arm. My eyes flitted to the tall tree above her for a moment and my lips were moving before I could think.

"Sandra Petrelli, how many times have I told you to stay out of that tree!?"

Peter was already examining her arm, the old nurse in him mixing with fatherly instincts and he started to call on healing powers he'd long ago "stolen" from another special-abilitied person. It wasn't necessary.

Sandra smiled up at me, holding her arm up for me to see. "Look, Mama!" The bone snapped back into place and small ripples were visual under the skin. It was another sight I was familiar with; her muscles were healing around the bone. It happened every time I broke a bone and I knew it hurt.

I cradled my daughter to my chest and stared over her head at Peter. "Peter..."

"Claire," he smiles at me, leaning over to brush a kiss across my lips as he slid his arms under Sandra to carry her. "Now we know why she never gets sick."

He carried her into the house, but I remained kneeling on the small strip of sidewalk that follows the back of the houses on our block.

I felt a mother's relief knowing that she'll never truly be grievously hurt, but also a mother's worry.

This made her a target.


End file.
